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2013-01-07 The Third End of the World
(First, an explanation. The participants were asked to pose things such as their greatest dream, greatest memory, bleah bleah - and the log progresses from that. The emitter poses that continue the dreams being posed will have the target person's name in them - such as Blade's dream emitted with 'Blade:' first) Age nine, Emmy was so proud of her achievement. She had taken the TV remote apart and tinkered with it until she could point it at any device in the house and control it with that remote. She had just run into the kitchen where her father was grabbing another beer. The man was drinking himself into an Early Grave of course, but it was one of those few moments where he was sober enough to understand, and not hung over. "Daddy, Lookit!" Emmanuelle called out, pointing the remote at the Microwave and pressing a button. The microwave oven started working and she beamed up at her Daddy. Her father, Charles... simply smiled and sat down at the kitchen table, pulling his little girl into his lap, "That's amazing Emmy." he said, using the shortened version of her name... maybe explaining a bit how she came to use that version too. "You're such a smart little girl." And Emmy, for her part was just brimming with smiles, hair a tangled mess, fingers grimy from working on the stuff. But she was so happy, her Daddy was proud of her, and that's all she really ever wanted... Well, that and for people to stop telling her -how- things are supposed to work, and simply let her -make- them work, the right way! Having funny colored eyes makes you stand out. Standing out in junior high is a terrible thing, especially when people latch onto it like hyenas on a fallen gazelle. Was she some kinda weirdo? Maybe an ALIIIIIIEN? Her love of all things nerdy didn't help, either. She was the retiring kid who all but put a bullseye on herself. Combine it with an awful lot of bad luck and - well. It didn't help that mom didn't really require her to attend their rituals anymore and so much of it was kept from Rain that even home wasn't safe from feeling a little bit like a total outsider. Every school has its little group of Mean Girls. Rain's school was no exception. Awful rumors, 'borrowing' lunch money... Rain remembers feeling a sinking dread as she sits at the lunch table, tray of food in front of her. Watching them approach slowly. Them. Their names are blurs, faces remembered and expressions, their words. Today, there were no flung meat balls or chicken nuggets. Just like, totally an apology. There's shock. There's something waiting, like a follow up wedgie or a 'PSYCH! LOL!' ... but then ... nothing. They sit, apologize and chat about - Star Wars? This baffles Rain. And how totally hot Luke was. Well, same hobby, different angles. Relief and hey, why not? It helps her open her mind a bit, too. It's been a long time since Blade has dreamed rose-coloured dreams of the world, though for a man who's witnessed so many nightmares, asleep or awake, every satisfying turn takes on new meaning. In the Daywalker's dream, the Night loses its deathgrip; the cities are safe, there are enough vigilant to protect the great minds, the innocents from otherworldly predation. Even on such relatively utopian nights, Blade chooses the hunt-- walks farther from the safety and stability society provides, into the rather less certain shadows along the outer edge. Tonight, or perhaps today, as times and schedules of most mortals hold little sway over Blade's sleep, that path through that world takes him to the cavernous lair of a beast that may be the last of its kind; a monster that once devoured hundreds, each time it woke. Emmy: Her father was proud of her, very much. The young woman could see it in the eyes of her father, if nothing else. It might not have been present in the original memory, but there was a certain sense of peace here. A belonging. Something special, something kind. "I wonder what sorts of other things are in that head of yours," her father says, his tone of voice rich, gentle. "Come on up - let's go back into your workshop - why don't we take a look at the other things you have planned?" Rain: The girls were... well, their names were whatever Rain wanted them to be. There was a little smile that danced up on the lips of the head 'mean girl', as she reaches out to take ahold of the seat next to Rain. "Hey, Rain? Do you mind if we have a seat here?" they say, until they all take seats, and start chit-chatting to each other. "Well, Star Wars is really cool - but we have an expert here, right? Would you mind telling us about Han Solo, Rain? Like... where did he come from, really? Was he always that cool?" There was a little pause then. "Oh, but I suppose we should wait for you to get your lunch first, huh? You wanna go get that, and come back and sit with us?" Blade: And as the Daywalker moved through the streets of the city, there would be people who would look to him. "Hey, hey, I know you!" cries a homeless man, lifting his hand out of his blankets he had curled around himself for warmth. "I know you! You saved me...! You saved us! You saved us all!" he cries out, jubilation on his lips. But he would not linger, vanishing again soon enough. Blade knew his destination. In the bad part of the city, beneath an old, abandoned factory - that is where he would find his prey. All: The whole experience had a dreamy, ephemeral part to it. It had the very essence of a memory, but there was something about it. It was good, it was light. It was peaceful. It invited you to relive these moments, again and again, and find something new to enjoy about it. What was probably the strangest thing though? Is playing on a television screen, in the glimmers of light reflected from broken windows, you catch glimpses of the dreams of the others here, and are aware of them, if only in that sense. Hopping down off Daddy's lap, Emmy took Charles's hand and led him back to her workshop where ideas had perculated into craft. Most of them were uncomplete, but she got such a kick out of his expression each time she explained what any item was -supposed- to be able to do. Just some examples follow: 1) There is the radio music changer so she can select her station from the back seat of the car. 2) The automatic toothbrusher and hairbrusher. She's still trying to get the kinks out of that one. Usually ends up with toothpaste in her ears somehow. 3) This one is the doozy. The neighbor's dog is still trying to figure it out too! A tennis ball launcher but not your average launcher. This one -makes- tennis balls from nothing and fires them at precise coordinates, while somehow talking to the dog and yelling things like, FETCH and GIVE At first, Rain is suspicious. These things are often followed up by wedgies or some awful joke which she happens to be the butt of. Maybe they're gonna pour milk down her shirt. Again. Regardless, she'll give it a chance. What's life without forgiveness? "Hi, and um, no, go for it," She shakes her head. She does not mind. Rain will explain all about Han Sollo, before nodding and grinning. "That would be awesome... thank you..." Sometimes the school cafeteria is crowded, but today's lunch is only moderately popular, it seems. It seems so ephemeral, so welcome compared to the painful memories of being awkward and embarrassed. Minds often register being shunned, embarassed or such as pain. Genuine pain. She'll get herself some lunch, then - but - there's the lunch lady... an old Romanian woman who is at once grandmotherly and mysterious. It draws him down, the Daywalker's crusade-- out of the lights that fill the city streets, away from the people filled with gratitude, hope; not fear. To some, the turn of a phrase would be foreboding, but for Blade, it is not the hunt that starts to fill him with a lingering sense of malaise, but the flickers of things that don't belong, raw against his inhuman senses. That it all feels like a memory he cannot recall is reason enough for caution, to go forward with a hand on the grip of at least one weapon at all times. That his silent, if violent infiltration of this surreal factory is broken by flickers in his minds eye of a strange childhood or two-- but not his own strange childhood or two-- that all but confirms the wrongness of the situation, gives the slayer pause. The Daywalker draws a deep breath that's more of a sigh, scanning his surroundings all the more carefully as he proceeds at half clip, paying careful attention to the visions and connections that tickle even the deepest recesses of his slumbering psyche. Emmy: It would be exactly as she expected. In fact, perhaps even happier. Perhaps drawn with the brush of memory, to be better than the original, to turn the memory from joy to bliss - her father from only mildly attentive and amused, to honestly drawn to every little detail of what was going on. So many questions he had for her, and then the memory twists, and vanishes, and Emmy - fully grown now, was standing in a very familiar place, somewhere... different. Rain: The 'mean girls' laugh at all the little jokes, and nudge themselves over how cool Han Solo must have been, before turning their eyes to watch Rain go. In fact, once Rain steps away from them, that portion of the school cafeteria seems to fade into darkness, of a sort. Like it never was there to begin with, and never would be again. What was, was the old Romanian lunchlady. Tilting her head to the side, the lunchlady lifts a ladle, dipping it into the school soup, before ladeling that into a bowl. "Rain, Rain, Rain," she says, with a little sigh. "You're lost, aren't you?" she says then. The Daywalker: Blade has a chance to step further into the factory. He was paying attention - he saw the flickers of a lunch lady in this shattered window there - the puddle on the floor of the factory revealing a doting father, but only for a moment, until a raindrop causes the image to scatter. But he was drawing nearer, and he would know it. Until, in this dilapated factory, a figure did step out of the shadow, her features twisting with confusion at first. "Baby?" she says then. Blade would recognize her instantly. His mother. "It feels like it's been a nightmare; but I'm not a monster anymore. They cured me. They saved me. You saved me," she says, tears of joy tracing down the edge of her cheek as an honest smile crosses it. All: And in the midst of all these things, there would be little... fragments. Little flashes across your eyes, like a nightmare enroaching in on a dream. Visions of airplanes, of deaths, of Mayan sacrifices - of a temple full of people laying on their backs and writhing - and your faces admist the throng. But soon enough, those flashes would fade, leaving happy memory. You know, Emmy has the ability to focus. But only if she's focused on several things at once. So young Emmy grows to adult status in that workshop right before the eyes of anyone watching this. She fleshes out, matures and yes, becomes a young woman. Right now though, the young woman is in the lab, with what can only be called a Star Trek style replicator, feeding her whatever materials she wants. Food is provided, materials, and she just blissfully works on four or five gadgets at a time. There is a TV screen playing memories of others, but she blithely ignores the memories as she disassembles the TV itself to put it to use making stuff. This time, she is outdoing herself. With unlimited supplies, she's actually working on what can only be called... the Millenium Falcon mark 2. Maybe the Star Wars references from the other memories did sink in, briefly.. Hey, why not? Rain has to smile at it all. Until... it starts to fade, like water washing away the colors on a painting. Gentle melting away... Rain can focus, though her thoughts are like a vivid stream of sensory input, their meanings and what comes next. Time is an ethereal, unseen river. Like water, you never really step in the same place twice. Shouldn't. Didn't she do something before? She feels lost, perhaps. But there's the old lunchlady. She smiles to the familiar face, then blankly, something - like a cockroach skittering unearthily at the edges of a clean cafeteria, they come. They intrude, stealing those precious peaceful minutes. Rain winces. "... a little." She nods to the old woman. "How are you?" It doesn't hurt to treat the lunch ladies with kindness, after all. And a familiar face is a precious one. To (Hellboy, Liz Sherman), Blade pages: Gonna drop my pose in a min, if Liz gets you up to speed on what's goin' down it might be a good hook-in for you. Assuming we worked together over the years, anyway, Red. You paged Hellboy with 'Sorry to hit you with so much, so quick. Do you have any questions?' Hellboy pages: Don't think so. Gonna catch another pose or two before I pose. The silence, the stillness, the lingering nudges towards peace and acceptance do little to dull Blade's growing sense of wrongness; the reappearance of his vampiric mother, slain when he was /born/? ... well, honestly, the world he comes from? That shit could happen-- but it's rarely going to be a particularly good sign. She gets about close enough to be a half-inch clear when he draws and extends his sword in one barely visible motion, runes etched along the katana's silver exterior flickering even in the all-but-absent light amidst the shadows. The unmistakable threat is the only attention the Daywalker shows his revivified 'mother', the terrible wrongness of it all bitter in his throat despite the attempt at sweetness. Instead of communing with the dead, Blade shouts to the darkness, "Hey! Who's out there? What the hell do you want?" Maybe if he had a peaceful childhood to remember or return to, the Daywalker would be more satisfied with the offering of a self-satisfying dreamworld; but one shouldn't bet on it. "You're /not/ gonna keep us here." Because, to Blade's eye, there are at least a few others trapped amidst familiar nightmares and faces. He punctuates his rather unruly stance by moving with a profound rush of air, seeking to behead that illusory matriarch with a single flash of that curving sword. It's one way to make his intentions clear. Emmy: Everything she wanted, everything she needed - no matter how rare, no matter how fantastical - would appear. She just needed to turn her head just so, see that spanner lying on the table. Look beneath the table, and there was a hunk of adamantium, shaped in the exact same shape she needed. It was like the very world was working with her to create whatever she wanted. And from the shadows behind her, there would step a shape. Again, her father - older now, bringing up a hand to rest upon Emmy's shoulder. "What are you making now, sweetie?" Rain: The lunchlady watches Rain's face carefully, seeing the pain and misery flicker across it there. "Now, sweetie, you don't look like you are doing very well," she says, her voice rich with kindness. "Here - I've been saving this up, but I think we can share it?" she says, dipping down, before pulling out Rain's very favorite dish from beneath the lunch counter, the lunchlady giving her a wink. "Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine. You have to keep your strength up, though. But look! Your friends want you to hurry back - they already miss you so very much," she says then, offering the dish to the high-school-aged Rain - if Rain looks over her shoulder, there would be the table full of once-enemies, now friends, the lunchlady nonetheless smiling brightly. Daywalker: The eyes of Blade's mother widens. "Baby - I know. It's okay. I'm not a vampire - he fixed it all. He fixed it all so you can be happy," she says, taking a step away - by every sense - even the smell of her blood - she was real in every sense of the term. Although her brow furrows with what he says, the woman glancing around the factory. "There's no one here, Blade - just me, and the very last of the monsters. You can rest now. We can go back, and make up for all this lost..." Her words were cut off with the swing of a sword, the image of his mother fading into nothingness with a short cry of surprise. And for a moment, Blade stood all in darkness. No ground beneath his feet, no sky. Just nothing. Not even him - but there was a /spark/ of him that he could wrestle into being. And he could still see the memories of the others, in his mind's eye. Daddy's hand makes Emmy jump. He's dead. He died two years ago. Liver Cancer. The man never stopped drinking after Mommy died. She drops the spanner into the open dorsal hatch on the ship and whips around to face Daddy. Now, for flavor, when the spanner falls in the hatch, a growling complaint comes out almost like there really were a Wookiee down there! "Where'd you come from Daddy?" asks Emmy. This is kind of dreamlike, so it doesn't really need to make sense. "Last time I saw you... you were dying." Nope, Emmy isn't one for tact. "But, I'm making a starship. My only problem is trying to figure out how to make a Hyperdrive motivator actually work. If I can get this thing up to point five past lightspeed... " She grins and shrugs before asking, "Oh, did you find a way to get out of that hole in the ground or something?" Hey, she's seen weirder things. But her brain is a working brain and she suddenly starts to think... maybe this isn't real. Her eyes flicker about, as if seeking signs of the fakeness of all this. Simply because... Daddy is here. Eh! Rain smiles apologetically. She might've been kind of afraid of the old lady once now and then, but you know... She blinks at the wink and her eyes widen. "Thank you," She carefully accepts the pasta. Mmm, pasta. Wait... school didn't ... did they ...? Just for her? Something seems ajar. Maybe. But aren't memories often fogged like that? She struggles to find her inner footing. Wasn't she in college before? Was that a dream? Thinking about time makes her sick to her stomach, like that drop when an elevator is going up. She looks over her shoulder. "Oh! Okay. See you soon then. I appreciate it." She does. Kindness touches her far more than insults - armoring against slights is easy. But. Huh. She nods and moves over that way. Somehow, something is off. Maybe it's those black specs of awful visions, like dirt on artwork bleeding in... For all the unearthly gifts of his unusually long life, Blade has never been particularly good at flying. In this dreamworld, or the complete absence thereof, there's only empty void over darkness swirling through mists of memory and spirit.. all but endless in the depths below him; and so, the Daywalker falls. It doesn't take him long before he reaches velocities that seem to defy comprehension, racing through the endless dark as grotesque, winged shapes rush upwards from below. Like gargoyles they flutter and claw their way towards the demonslayer, and once again-- Blade lives up to his reputation. Shadowy monsters fall away, wounds burning with spiritual, sealing fire as they are cut, wounded, driven away. The Daywalker rebounds off them as he falls, uses one's massive frame to stage the assault on the next, as he drops through flashes of his own nightmares, throws himself into the endless space outside those dreams, towards a distant, different point. It's not his first rodeo; the problem is the endless swarm of nightmarish beasts now constructed from his own subconscious in an effort to subdue his rather blatant misbehaviour. Hellboy isn't Hellboy anymore. The name, these days, is Steve. Steve Bruttenholm. Gone is the trench and the holster and the life of a BPRD/SHIELD agent..and in it's place is a briefcase, and a suit. A 9-5 routine. Thai lunches. Boring afternoon meetings, but ones where he's going over facts and figures and plotting corporate strategy instead of Paranormal Investigation. There's a break in the meeting when the cellphone goes off: "Hey you gorgeous woman you, what's goin' on?" he asks into the phone. He's talking to his wife. A brief discussion about dinner plans with friends comes up and the availability of a baby sitter. They agree on a time and a place and he looks at his watch. "Okay, babe. Gotta go back into this meeting. Oh I'll get 'em alright. See you when I get home. Love you too, Liz. Bye." he hangs up, and before he heads back in gets asked, "Hey did you see that game last night?" as they head back in, "Oh, yeah. That kid Rogers got hammered! Makes ya wonder how he got called Captain of the All-America team." Emmy: "I know. But I stopped drinking, remember? You made that wonderful machine, that fixed my liver. Your mother is here too, somewhere," he says, taking a step away from the open hatch then. "So don't you worry, Emmy, it'll all be okay, in the end," he says. Signs of obvious fakeness, beyond well, wookiees, starships, and dead parents, weren't quite there. The whole event had a haze to it, much like memory, overall - not to mention those flashes and visions of death that had happened a handful of minutes ago. "I know if anyone can make that, it's you, sweetie," says her father. Rain: It felt like memory still. Like this whole bad event, her being harrassed and teased in the school lunchroom, never happened. She would find that the more she focuses on those bleeding black spots at the edges of the memory - the parts that were hazier and hazier, the more everything fell apart. The more nightmarish this whole event became. The faces of her friends twisting, and in the distance, far in the distance - a man falling through the void, slicing at fluttering winged demons as they swoop and harry him. And beyond even that - she might see a wide, open temple. The floor covered with layers of layers of people, gasping for air - and at a raised podium, a metal disc reflecting the sunlight so brightly it blinds, there stood...! It fades. But that harried form of the Daywalker was barrelling closer and closer, those nightmare creatures becoming more distinct...! Blade: They did not exist, and they did. They tore holes in him, killed him, over and over as he fell. But he would not die, and his wounds would not remain. Flashes of enemies he killed lingered in his vision. Vampires. Wendigos. Skinwalkers. Every person he failed to save reached up to grab him as he fell through the nothing, tearing him, tormenting him. If what he had before was heaven, this was hell. The place where monsters go to die. But Blade could hold onto things. Memories of himself, of what should be - he would see something up ahead, deceptively normal - a school lunchroom. He was falling towards that. Hellboy: "Bye, honey," comes on the voice on the other end of the line, "Please don't die. I want this to last forever," says Liz. 'Please don't die' would be a little injoke between them, of course, but here - there was a subtle tinge to it. "Yeah, yeah. Pete's got the replays on right on, on his phone? Rogers really dropped the ball on this one," says the coworker, the office - at least the edges thereof, starting to shimmer and fade a little bit. "Here, Steve, get a load of this," says the coworker, picking up the phone to hand to 'Steve' - and on it, was not playing images of a football game, but Blade falling through his nightmares, slashing and being torn at. "...Rogers will never play again, after that one!" "Wait... Mom's here too..." Emmy is suddenly suspicious. "And you never stopped drinking Daddy!" She pauses and inclines her head, "Or did you?" She's cnfused right now, shaking her head as she walks over to the Replicator and says, "Tea, Earl Grey, Hot." before such a drink forms before her. She reaches for it and takes a drink as she thinks this over. "Wait... you are trying to trick me. You said that Mom's here, but never said she was alive." Now Emmy drops the teacup which bounces off of her rubberized, anti-dish-breaking floor, and starts ripping parts off of any device she can get her hands on, working furiously to build a device. One that will quite literally show.. truth. Hey, it's magic. She needs to know -where- she is... and... if her body is somewhere that -she- is not. She thinks that if Mom is here, then she might be dead, or close to it. Once she is sure that her theory is correct... maybe she can build something to get her spirit back to her body... maybe even heal it of any wounds. Like memory. Wait. That girl didn't have black spots... and there wasn't a hole there. The revelation has her reeling a little. Colors give way to mists, to stark, naked apocalypse with its metal skeleton bared before her. Her mouth falls open. There's a man falling and a temple. People fading and - well, for now, the more urgent form of a man and those nightmare creatures draw her attention. He's going to splat! Oh no! "H-hey!" He's not one of the popular girls. He's actually a little dudely to be a girl. Definitely NOT one of her school friends. Actually, someone his age in high school... hmmm. No, no - he's not joining the misty memories that gasp and blur. But she'd better move or help him. Maybe put something soft in the way? "Are you - who are you? And why is there a strange man falling into my school?" Doesn't Rain look a bit old to be there, too? The demonic figures that crash through the roof of the building with the Daywalker as he crashes in a shockwave of dispersing shrapnel which scatters as if it were possessed of a thousand different densities and properties, not all of them strictly possible. The newest wounds linger moments rather than hours, or a lifetime, as Blade rises, dismembering his own volatile nightmares as he cuts his way into Rain's own little pocket of reality, "Not sure what has us, but you might want to start /seriously/ reconsidering any inkling you got about going into the light." A full clip, minus one round from the drawn .45 is used to dispatch the last of his own demons, before that final silver hollowpoint is fired for the forehead of one of Rain's. "Or maybe I get some answers before I just keep tearing this whole place apart." Which seems to be an option he's willing to entertain. "Wake the fuck up." It might cut in over Hellboy's phonecall; or Emmy's high-tech radio. He doesn't fully look at Rain, reloading his pistol and training it for just a moment, in case some entity or another wants to talk terms, as he prepares for the 'armageddon' approach to crisis management. Hellboy glances up and around, taking note of the shimmering edges. It pricks up old reflexes, old fears. He shakes them off, looks at the replay which is not a replay anymore but footage of Blade. "Wait..I know that guy..but how is he..why is he?" he sounds confused. He reaches up and adjusts his tie, as if it were suddenly uncomfortable. Tugs at the sleeves of his suit, as if they were suddenly ill fitting. "Something..something's not right here.." he says, looking around. It was all starting to come apart at the seams. Emmy's machine, looked over by an approving and caring father, was snapped together hurriedly. It shouldn't work. It really shouldn't, being made of dreamstuff and otherwise, but a flip of the switch, and... Rain's was already becoming to come apart. Tables were becoming chairs, and becoming nothing, as something off in the distance was starting to collapse and fall with the presence of Blade. The nightmares themselves were shifting, turning, melting into each other as they defy the laws of physics and vanish utterly. And... Hellboy probably had it the worst. In the distance, it would look like the apocalypse was happening. The sky was fire, people were screaming - throwing their arms up and falling into puddles. Buildings were shrinking and growing, and all in all, a great nothingness was lurching over the horizion towards his office building, and... They wake up. It all comes back in a rush. However you got here, why you got here, why you came here? Was it following the source of the mystical energy? Well, you might have found it. Following the trail of missing persons? You just found them. Now, we were in a temple - it was a huge, wide auditorium, looking like it was just built yesterday. Enough space for hundreds, if not thousands of people. And it was filled with them - people sleeping, twitching - most with smiles on their faces, all clustered around a stairway leading up to a metal dish that reflected the rays of the sun all throughout the chamber, leaving it bright, but not blinding. Situated beneath the dish was an ancient Mayan sacrifical altar. And standing above it all, nearly nine or ten feet tall, was a person. He radiated gentleness. He radiated peace and calm. Clad in shining white robes, he turns away from the dish as if sensing a disturbance, his eyes sweeping over the teeming mass of people, a calm little smile on his lips. "At the doorway to eternity, the key, the metal mind, the witch, and the daywalker will stand alone against the light, and they will be consumed by it. And in the fits of their consumption, the world must die." - P. de la Cava, the Third Occurence of the End of the World, pg 34. Anywhere-------------------------------------------------------------------- K'inich Ahauha - the Temple of the Sun God It as though the last five hundred years never happened. The stones are buffed, shiny, new, and all the moss and vegetation that one might expect from a place like this is absent. It is a wide, open area - sunlight streaming in through slits in the ceiling, and especially in the very center of the place. A circular beam of sunlight is shining upon a flat, beaten metal disc, uplifted on a stone stairway, beneath which lies a sacrifical table. Light reflected from that disc illuminates the inside of the entire temple, making this whole place seem radiant. The walls are decorated with carvings of a multitude of different themes, although the observant may not that the carvings near the entryway are more related to birth and the beginning of life, wherein the ones nearest to the altar are more related to death, with war, marriage, and other struggles of life shown in the connecting walls. Beyond that, this place is entirely empty, with enough space to fit hundreds, if not thousands of people around the central altar. <+note for room commands> ------------------------------------------------------------- Blinking a bit as she snaps out of it, Emmy suddenly jumps up and starts dancing. Okay so it's uncoordinated, and really not skilled dancing, but she's dancing as she mutters softly, "Nnnnz, Nnnnz, I even build awesome stuff in my dreams! God, it worked, I can't believe it really worked!" And then she notices the guy over there. She stops dancing with one hand in the air, and one foot raised. Slowly, she reaches her lower hand into a shirt pocket and pulls out her sunglasses... sliding them on her face to peer at the guy's aura. Then... she notices the plethora of weapons that Blade wears and she inclines her head. Sudden inspiration hits, and she draws the little silver cylinder from her belt before walking over and holding it out his way, "Hollow end points away from you. Press the button and use it like a sword. Might be a bit more effective than normal ones..." Sure enough, that silver cylinder is her lightsaber. As long as she's around to make it work... it will work. Whoa. Ok. That? Was trippy. Rain's eyes widen. She takes a deep breath. She clings to her coat, a bit startled. "Ok. That was weird..." More than a little trippy. And there's still at least one dude. Rain swallows hard, looking up to the sleeping, twitching people. Normally, sleeping people would be cause for relief, kinda. But that sacrifice dish? That's not for a giant donut or anything friendly looking. She bites her lower lip. She notices the others, though. " Did you guys -" She asks quietly. Her social skills aren't her best trait, but she's friendly and well meaning. "... people were so nice to me ..." It's hard to let go of that warmth and hope. But she must. Deep breath. "Um. ... anyone else see..." What /is/ it with people and human sacrifice? The panorama of collected victims snoozing deeply around the Mayan altar doesn't exactly spur the kind of warm feelings in the Daywalker that might be intended by the radiated peace. There's nothing he finds peaceful about something so inherently disturbing to him. The offered weapon is taken, and clipped to his belt for the moment. "These aren't normal swords." Blade offers tersely, glancing around the chamber. As he notices Hellboy, there's a motion to draw said blade.. aborted and reversed in the blink of an eye, too fast for most to notice; but not Red. "Why am I not surprised to see you here. What do you think, god isn't as dead as we'd like?" A glance sizes up Rain and Emmy, before Blade looks back to the tall man, eyes narrowing. "See if there's anyone else awake, or if you can wake 'em up. I have a bad feeling about this." If he had a dollar for every one of those... Hellboy notices the weapon drawn and sheathed and smirks slightly, "Good to see you too, 'Walker." he says by way of greeting. He does take a moment to look down and take stock of himself. Trench. Check. Duffle? Check. Weapons? Double Check. "I had the weirdest..oh never mind." he mutters. "I'll start with pulses, then breathing. Maybe we'll be lucky, but something tells me not to hold my breath..." first he checks on Liz, then the others. For the most part, people were still asleep. Happily asleep, by the look of it. As for Liz? Well, she would be incredibly easy to find. For one, she was on fire, flame licking off of her body, the heat of it pretty much unbearable if you were close to her. In fact, the dreamers laying beside her had expired due to the heat. But what was stranger about it was her smile. She never smiled, and right now, she had the widest smile in the world on her face, her eyes closed as she lays there. But such things were minor details. There was that tall figure still, and while his features did not shift, he would have something familiar about him to everyone there. Maybe Emmy's dad. Maybe someone in Rain's life. Maybe Whistler. Maybe the Professor. But he seemed familiar and gentle all at once. If one... ignores the person impaled on the altar with a sword. Reaching over to draw the sword, the sword spits one, and then alights with blue flame, the smile not fading from his lips as he starts to approach the waking quartet. "You've awakened," he says, without his lips moving, his voice everywhere and nowhere at once. "Why would you flee from heaven?" Rain, however - and maybe Hellboy, may notice a familiar sight. A man clad entirely in leather, a golden disc on the forehead of his helmet. The same people at the auction house. The crystal from the statue that was stolen? He holds it up, grimacing. "Dispara! Demon!" Shrugging, Emmy shakes her head, "Fine then." she mutters. She presses the button and fires up the lightsaber before she looks to the fatherly figure. "Sorry loser. Daddy's dead. Plus, I don't believe in Heaven. That's just some arbitrary story made up so we don't feel like dead folks are worse off." She reaches for the phaser in her holster and sets it to .... magic disruption. "These people are asleep magically, right?" she asks, checking through her goggles for magical auras and effects before she starts spraying down antimagic beams on wide beam area setting. Oh boy. Rain nods to Blade. "I think you're right..." She bites her lower lip. Wait. Hellboy. Rain smiles and waves, relieved for the second familiar face. Though, it fades fast. She looks to Emmy, concerned. Familiar... yet - Yet Rain's been almost tased, set on fire, eaten, tentaclewrapped, soul motorboat'd and other misadventures enough to know that flaming swords RARELY end well. "A false heaven is pretty cruel," She notes quietly towards the man approaching them. "It's absurd to mix up heaven and a heavenly prison..." She bites her lower lip. There's a pause on noticing the man in leather. "Hey! That's the guy from the auction who- wait, why is he saying shoot demo-- oh. Right." Hellboy thwomped some people but good last time. Oh dear. She looks to Hellboy. So many emotions all at once, she feels overwhelmed. Time has slowed and quickened all at once. But wisely, Rain pushes aside her coat to reveal two automatic pistols - someone with magic senses might realize that yes, Rain herself is magic but she's got relics on her. "... people won't always like me, but that can't be helped." It's a sad truth. Waitasecond. If there's anything video games taught Rain, it's that glowy bits, overly large cod pieces and notable items are for SHOOTING. Thinking quickly, she slips out the right pistol and takes a potshot at the crystal on the leather man's helmet. "Something told me it wouldn't last." This alleged heaven. His .45 lines up, and several inscribed silver bullets are sent down the firing line at the other, rather larger swordsman. Two rounds fired, then Rain raises her gun. Blade steps to the side, reflexes firing in the instants between the cycling of the action and the firing of the rounds, seeking to slap the weapon low. "That one's human." Or at least, humanish. He notes, nodding towards the otherworldly figure, "That one's working a sacrificial altar surrounded by clueless abductees." Of course, he has the benefit of senses to tell him the one is way more malevolent than the other, and besides... "Might need the crystal to stop this." The Daywalker asides to Hellboy-- and the others, but Hellboy in particular, as he advances on their naptime guardian, "Better wake her up fast, 'cause we need a new plan." Blade fires the rest of the magazine dry before throwing the weapon to the side as he advances, apparently trying to buy them time and draw the thing's attention more than anything... though the throwing knives that follow are of several different alloys and blessings. Hellboy nods to Blade, "I'm on it. Let me wake her up, and I got a few rounds especially for this kinda party." he leans down, right next to Liz and the flames jump from her to him and consume him. Except he's merely covered in the flames, he does not burn. He reaches down caress Liz's hair and wake up her up, "C'mon Liz, wake up - we got work to do." he says, hoping his voice can reach her and coax her awake. There's care in the way he does it. Gentility. The anti-magic beams sweep over the people - but this wasn't quite magic. Not, at least, of the earthly sense of the word. What the beams do is give those fighting the effects the chance to flutter awake, and so you see one, two of the people in the mass flutter to their senses, pulling themselves to their feet and starting to... well... back away from both the tallman and the group of heroes. One backs the wrong way, deciding it was better to flee towards the gentle aura of the man - and is rewarded with a swing of the sword that bisects him, the flame cauterizing the wound as it passes. That's when Blade's rounds strike him. The first hits him, seemingly sinking into flesh and causing him to take a step back, but he turns his attention fully on Blade, and just... smiles at him. Lifting his sword high, the rest of the bullets don't make him falter one step as he leans and charges forward, only stopped by one of those knives sinking into his heart. This causes him to pause, the smile falling from his face. In an instant, his aura changes, from gentle to malevolent, his smile twisting to something a serial killer might wear. "Rain. Blade. The aptly named 'Hellboy' - although I /see/ what you are truely named. Why do you struggle? This is inevitable. I am going to bring this heaven to this wartorn hell of an earth - and you /fight/ against this? Fight against /me/? I am as a /god/ to you. I could be /your god/," he says, the emphasis to his words causing a flicker of pain at the back of the skull. But Liz's eyes flutter open, a look of confusion settling in on them. In a moment, the fire fades away, and she tilts her head to the side. "Red?" she asks, her eyes looking past him towards the towering figure. "What...?" As for leatherman? He faints, the upheld crystal falling from his fingers to clatter against the stone beside him. Rain eeps. She nods and doesn't seem ruffled by the Daywalker's actions too much. Startled. Curious. But she goes with it. It's a bit lucky she's a gentle, cooperative soul. She winces, looking worried. She watches the others, relieved as Liz wakes up. She squeaks as the man is cleaved in half. Her eyes widen as Blade's weapons pretty much... just piss the guy off. Her jaw drops. "You're imprisoning people! And frankly, I don't think I wanna worship someone who looks like Mr. Clean..." Nuh uh. Z-snap. She winces at the pain in her head. But if no one else does, Rain is diving for that crystal. Go go gadget engineer spr-- wait, aw, nuts. Well, she's speedy if nothing else when determined. "Yea." Blade notes drily, spitting to the side as he pauses his advance long enough to size up this new stance, that new aura of power. The Daywalker draws the adamantium-core katana, blessed against such resilience by the most powerful mystics he knows; it may not be a specialized weapon against this would-be deity, but the sword earns its infamy. "Seen more than one sick son of a bitch say the same." His stance is held only a hair's breadth longer. The demonslayer relies on speed to strike and feint around that titan's fiery weapon, unhesitating in his search for the bite of blade through flesh. One thing is for certain: the Daywalker seems quite enthusiastic about being this creature's heathen. His objective is actually beyond the being judged monster-- that central, curious and dark altar. Hellboy smiles, "As usual darlin' we got problems. Some guy decided to try and bring a knife to a gunfight. Apparently, so did Blade. Go figure." he motions to the flames consuming them and says, "I don't know how useful that's going to be but it's worth a shot." and inclines his head towards the fallen leatherman with the crystal. "I gotta go grab that crystal. You gonna be ok for a minute?" he asks, smoothing her hair gently. The eyes of the entity were on Blade, forever on Blade, that wicked smile on his lips turns brighter and brighter, growing wider as he duels the Daywalker. But in Rain's mind, words resound. "And you serve as the jailkeeper for your own imprisonment! Locked in sacks of flesh that will rot, and die, instead of your soul - your /mind/ living in eternity! I would free you! I would free you all!" he says. But Rain would be able to catch that crystal. It was hot, but did not burn - and shivered as though she were holding a tempest. It would not hurt, although it might be hard to keep hold of, unless she focused on just carrying it a bit. The Daywalker would prove a worthy opponent. Blade would twist, and strike - but he would no longer be there. He never was there. And here comes that flaming sword from an impossible angle, arcing towards his ribs - but every stab, every cut remained on the figure, bullet wounds and knives lingering on him as cut after cut was added to it. "Sleeeeeeeeeeep, half-man," he coos at him. As for Liz and Hellboy? Liz nods her head, damping down the fire a bit more, her eyes flickering to him. "I'm not sure burning him is the way to go. Or cutting him, really. Yeah," she says, her tone of voice... morose. Almost depressed. "I'm fine. Still have my gun, even," Liz says to Hellboy, drawing her weapon - and giving him a smile she didn't really feel. But what she says next, she really did feel. "Kick his ass." Ow ow ow ow, friggin' OW. If she couldn't shoot his weak point for massive damage, then - then she'll just take the shiny painrock. Rain's eyes water once she has a hold of the crystal. The words - those infernal words, she shakes her head mentally. No. Heavenly prison is not the same as heaven. Her flesh - well, she'd like a FEW alterations to her figure (ahem), but it's a pretty nice mortal's existence, all in all. She'd cheer for Blade if she knew his name or who he was. So far he's 'the dude with the weapons and the throwing and stabbing'. She's got a task though. Hang on. To the. Crystal. Owwie owwie. She tries not to whimper and focuses on hanging onto it and getting the heck out of the way. "Ow, what IS this thing?" Grumble. "Any luck back there?" Wounds accruing or no, the thing isn't exactly slowing down-- if anything, Blade's mostly made it angry, thus far. Fire isn't anathema to him as it proves to his.. cousins.. but being cut by supernatural fire and steel is never a particularly pleasant process. Even loose from the dream state, the Daywalker's wounds close quickly-- save several deeper gashes he attains whilst drawing the titan back towards its own favored altar. The Daywalker calls back to the others as he continues to strike, to evade, drawing the angered overlord onward. As the sword slashes downwards, Blade inverts, kicking off the ceiling to cross over and cut, sliding to a stop a short distance away, "Or bright ideas on how to hurt ancient Mayan spirits?" Because Hellboy -looks- like a scholar, too. Hellboy smiles broadly when Liz tells him to go kick its ass. It's like the scene in Rocky II when Adrian tells Rocky to win. He gives her a wink and draws the Samaritan, loaded for bear for this particular mission. For everything else, there's the RHOD. He stands up, and starts striding to take a spot near Blade. "Liz is up," and drops the hammer back on the massive revolver, "So now it's time to raise a little hell." he fires twice, three rounds still loaded in it. He pauses to see the reaction of the guy as the phylacteries slam into and shatter within him. Hellboy did his homework on this one, so the rounds are filled with items partial to the Mayan religion. After a handful of moments of being held tightly, the crystal stops vibrating, stops burning - and it gains a certain calming aura, not unlike the one that the entity just had. Again, the words of the leatherman flicker through Rain's head, as if they were being pushed there, and this time, she gets a vision - loading the crystal into a weapon, it changing its size to fit, and being fired at the creature. The entity, such as it is, hisses down at Blade. Rain would be one of the first to be sacrificed, after he put this annoying... half man down. It follows after Blade, starting to care less about where its feet lie, the carpet of people proving unreliable - and, for the first time in the fight - it stumbles, its foot sliding off the back of one of the fallen, falling to the floor. All these cuts - it wasn't bleeding - but now it was missing part of its head, most of one arm, horrid gashes along its belly - and Hellboys rounds hammer into it. Little bits of statue. Ceremonial daggers. Bits of jaguar heart. This was like fire to it, and it cries out, its flaming weapon swinging indeterminedly in the direction of the Daywalker, before it turns, moving as if wounded, to try to decapaciate Hellboy with its flaming sword, swinging a frenzied blow right for his neck. "I WILL BRING THE END OF EVERYTHING!" it cries out. "I WILL PROVE THIS TO YOU, FATHER!" Heywaitaminute... Rain doesn't wanna be a sacrifice! Least of all - well, okay, they normally chuck virgins into a volcano but WHATEVER. She's not about to get stabbed, volcano'd, shanked, rocked, inquistioned or anything like that. Hellboy and Liz are pretty cute, though she's a little distra-- wait, the hurting stopped. She peers down at the crystal, eyes widening. Oh no. Poor leather guy. Well, she'll revenge him. She carefully loads it into one of her pistols and takes him. Steadying her gun with her other arm, she takes aim and will fire at the man. "End your FAC-- no wait, End you? Man, battle cries are hard..." One might think the Daywalker could be in the path of the Samaritan's specialty rounds. Even as Hellboy fires, Blade keeps the Mayan doomsayer pinned in a flurry of blades, the thing's more haphazard and emotional movements easier for the agile Dhampir to predict... and evade. It doesn't keep Blade from acquiring a new burn, nasty and deep.. or losing a chunk of his body armor and shoulder; but he's still alert enough to dart out of that line of fire, opening up the angle entirely. As the Daywalker sees the Samaritan's rounds impact, eyes narrow dangerously, and he reaches around behind his back to draw out a cruel-edged obsidian dagger; ritualism is as ritualism does, right? He charges in between Hellboy's shots and Rain's, seeking to pin their quarry in place by quite literally backstabbing him with the stonework artifact. "This is heaven, /right/?" He was all about cutting them in twain a moment ago, after all. Hellboy's eyes dart to the flaming blade coming towards his neck. Reflexively, his right hand comes across his body and the blade's impacting against his stony hand. "Daddy issues, eh? I /never/ would've guessed." He narrows his eyes, glancing Blade's move behind the entity. "End. This." and follows the flaming blade with his right hand hand into what's left of it's face to add insult to the Daywalker's injury. Little does Big Red know that Rain just fired the crystal at it. For a moment, a long moment, the entity kneels in disbelief as his sword doesn't even cut into that red right hand of Hellboy's. Mouth opens wide as the dagger stabs into his back, and Blade's words are only answered with a gurgle, at first, a gurgle that turns into a howl of rage as he reaches back - just to have that fist hammer into his jaw just a few seconds more, that crystal bullet slapping into his head at the same time. The ritual stabbing, there on the altar - the punch - the impact of the bullet, digging the crystal into his head. All for a moment, it seems that nothing would happen at all. Visibly shivering, and dropping his sword, he moves to stand up - before his eyes go blank. A certain vibration seems to rummage through the temple, and in an instant, it loses its shine. Slowly, so slowly, the temple starts to age. Vines grow. The metal disc loses its luster. Parts of the ceiling break off, and crumple - harmlessly falling into empty spots in the mass of people. And the entity starts to... implode. Starts to get sucked in, towards that crystal, flesh dissolving around it until he was drawn all the way up, all the bullets, knives, and miscellany stuck in him clattering to the ground. And soon, all that was left was the crystal, spinning quickly in midair - before, blazing hot, it falls to the stone floor, charring the stone as it quickly cools. And all around, people start to stir, some crying out for help, some breaking down into sobs, some of the more able-bodied already standing up, and moving to help each other up. Liz herself gives her head a shake, drawing her communicator over her ear - and speaking into it. "Hey, this is Liz Sherman," she says into it. She'd be damned if she called herself Agent Sherman anytime soon. "I think the situation is more or less handled, but... we're... going to need a lot of helicopters. There's a lot of people here, that need to be brought back to society," she says. Oh snaps. Rain stares. She looks to the others, her gun and this whole scene. Her eyes are a bit wide before she blinks owlishly. "So much for heaven," She remarks quietly. "Hey... are you guys hurt?" She asks, peering over. She holsters her gun and pulls her coat over it. She watches the group, quietly, concerned. And definitely watching where the god-priest fell. End it they do. Once Blade steps back from the shattered titan, his eyes are on the ceiling and supports of the ancient temple as it once more rapidly approaches ruined. He snatches his blade from the air as it falls, slipping the knife back into its sheathe as he surveys the others, pacing back that way steadily. "Better hope dead gods get to dream." He utters relatively heretically, by some standards. "He catch you hunting his trail too, Devil Man?" A series of throwing knives are gathered back up and cleaned efficiently, even as the spell starts to release its other victims. They are, indeed, going to need a bigger boat. Hellboy takes out a cigar and lights, taking a long puff before clenching it in his teeth. "Yeah," he says, eyes searching for Liz but not wanting to seem too doting, "Something like that. Was not pleased with what he had going through my head. You?" he asks. People are indeed starting to wake up. This..could be a problem, which he remarks with a quiet "Crap." Liz likewise holsters her gun, clenching her jaw. She... really wanted to just go somewhere else right now, and one could probably tell that by the stiff way she held herself, and the clench to her jaw. Flexing her fingers though, she settles her hand on the hilt of her pistol, her eyes flickering back and forth. One imagines that people wouldn't want to see a demon when they wake up. Bringing up a hand to wipe her eye, Liz calls out, "Alright, everyone - it's okay. Big Red's on..." she says, her words cutting short as her eyes fall upon a sight - six charred corpses. Wasn't that near where she was laying? "...he's on our side," she says. "He's a superhero," she adds, moving closer to Hellboy. It... didn't seem to be persuading people very well, but Liz moves a little closer to the group, for protection, and in case of any sort of riot. "I... think it should be fine. They just woke up from a dream, anyways, so... uh... yeah. Sorry, Red," she says, glancing towards Rain then, tilting her head to the side. "Nice shot," she says, her expression still pinched, but she was bringing again that little smile she didn't feel. Rain pauses. "Um." Hmm. She looks awkward. She tilts her head at Blade, curious. The people have her concerned and she peers to Liz. "Yeah, he's a nice guy," Rain promises. Really. Although, the woman is purple eyed so maybe she's ALSO evil. She looks apologetically to Liz. "Um. Thank you. It was lucky... and I had help." Hey, credit where credit's due. "Is the fellow with all the knives one of your friends?" She asks quietly. Blade just gives a noncommital shrug on the intensity of the nightmares and dreamscapes, walking the perimeter where the entity fell and drawing a ritual mark in salt at and around the site as he double checks. One could say he's seen a lot of horror movies. Despite his relative lack of attention, he's easily the first to answer the quiet question, as if Rain yelled it to him, "They call me Blade. You could say this kind of shit has happened before." Some nights, it's amazing just how close the world comes to real ruination. The nastier wounds the Daywalkerhas don't seem to inhibit him the way they should, though the deeper ones take their time in scabbing over. It's still a damn sight better than the emergency room and stitches, even with the dubious blessing of instant cauterization. "You got people handling extraction?" He steps over in front of Liz and Hellboy, gesturing to the still-waking crowd, "People! Exit is that-a-way." He gestures, "Move towards the fresh air in an orderly fashion and authorities will be along to assist you in returning to your homes." There's an almost recital-like quality to it, and it's punctuated by a grimace as the Daywalker turns away, but he has a certain sense about him; and people do love vampires. "I didn't pack anything non-lethal." He whispers towards the big red demon. "Fuckers better keep their heads." Fingers crossed, right? Hellboy chuckles softly, "It's okay, man. Just hide behind me and I'll knock 'em back to sleep so you can make your get away." extraction, hmm, good question. "Yeah, Liz..did we think that far ahead to arrange getting these people out of here, or are we about to go from curious to interesting?" he smiles to Rain and nods approvingly, giving her a thumbs up. All in all, going out into fresh air - even if that fresh air is South American jungle - was a bit preferable to staying in /there/, with Hellboy and the rest. Even if they didn't quite funnel out into fresh air, there were pockets of people who remained inside. Although inside, away from the group. Rain was certainly getting some ill looks too, but for the most part, people were more concerned with getting out, as opposed to dealing with demons and superheroes. Liz opens her lips to respond to Rain, when Blade picks up his voice, turning her eyes to his. "I just called it in - probably take a few hours, though, so we should keep things under control. I'd imagine that they're gonna call the local authorities, get some local help and all that - we can't have people wandering off into the jungle, after all - but..." Liz pauses a moment. The smell of the cigar hit her, and she got the twitches. Dipping a hand into the pocket of her jacket, she draws out a pack of smoke, beating out a single cigarette. "We gotta lotta people. Lotta things wrong in this world, and all these people came here for some kinda hope. And maybe it was a lie, but for a little bit, they got what they needed," she says, bringing the cig up to her lips before replacing the pack. "So, I guess, we're getting interesting, Red," Liz says to him with a little smirk playing along one side of her lips, as she lifts a thumb to the end of the cigarette, and pauses. A moment, and she looks back towards the circle of charred persons, and a small flame lights the end of her thumb, only staying on long enough to catch that cigarette, a few short puffs taken right away. "I'm thinking fresh air might be a good idea anyways. Place looks bad." Category:Logs Category:Events